Lady Lessons
by LOTR-nutcase
Summary: Eowyn and Arwen's mutual lessons. NO slash!
1. Chapter One: Eowyn

Author's Note/Disclaimer: In case there was a smidgen of doubt, none of these characters are mine, they all belong to J.R.R. Tolkien, the genius creator of LOTR. I'm only borrowing them for my own somewhat questionable purposes. I'm also rather butchering them. Since I am too lazy to do the research, the timing in this story is probably completely off, but we'll just pretend like it's OK, shall we? As long as I'm ruining the characterization, plot, and timeline of LOTR, I might as well take artistic license with historical accuracy as well! Reviews welcome, as this is my first attempt at FanFiction directly for the internet.  
  


* * *

  
Eowyn regarded her attempt at dinner objectively. It was probably edible, but that didn't necessarily make it palatable. A large, lopsided loaf of what could have been bread (black), a lump of charred beef, and some very strange looking broccoli sat on the kitchen table. The room itself was a mess- flour strewn everywhere, ashes flying out of the fireplace- but was nothing compared to the sweating, disheveled woman standing defeated in the middle of it. For a soon-to-be-married woman, she thought tiredly, I've really got a long way to go on this wifely stuff. Dejectedly, Eowyn plopped down in a chair and stared into the fire. What kind of Stewardess of Gondor, Princess of Ithilien, Lady of Rohan couldn't even cook her husband dinner? She'd been struggling for a week now to become better skilled in the "womanly arts" that the Queen's ladies in waiting were so good at. With only three weeks until the wedding, she was beginning to panic. Eowyn idly looked out the window. The sun was setting behind the mountains...sunset! She lept up and ran to lean out over the balcony. It was nearly nightfall... and she was supposed to dine with the court in the King's Hall! Eowyn raced to her chamber.  
*~*~*~*~*  
My goodness, I must look like something the dogs dragged in! I didn't even have time to braid my hair...oh, there's Aragorn and the Queen. Bow... try not to trip this time...good grief, I bet he's glad he managed not to end up married to me. I'll just stand here against the wall and hope no one notices me...  
Not taking her eyes off the perfect Royal Couple, Eowyn backed up towards the nearest pillar. She normally hid her insecurity behind tomboyishness and bravado, but as she spent more and more time among the dozens of servent women, waiting women, and noblewomen who inhabited the top level of Minas Tirith, she found it harder and harder to keep her feelings to herself. Women! She'd never been around so many women in her life! Her entire life had been spent following in her older brother's and cousin's footsteps, in and out of Rohan's capital, Edoras. There had been no other ladies of Rohan's court to keep company with, and the servants were mostly men. Then the black days of Grima Wormtongue's treachery had come, and Eowyn had retreated further and further into herself.  
Aragorn had seen her. He stood and motioned her towards the dais. You are not a weak Gondorian ninny, Eowyn! You are a shieldmaiden of Rohan. You have proved your worth in battle- and you will yet in the kitchen. They don't have to know that, anyway... Raising her chin, Eowyn straightened her back ramrod-stiff and walked towards the King.  
"My Lord...My Lady..." She curtsied, then rose. Trying not to betray her nervousness, she slowly smoothed the folds of her Gondorian-style dark green gown. The one she had not had time to ask one of the servants to press the wrinkles out of, or to have properly fitted for her. It was slightly long, and slightly more than slightly too big in the bust. Her hair she had hastily tied back with a ribbon that matched neither the dress, nor her uncomfortable slippers.  
"Lady Eowyn! We were greatly pleased that you could join us this evening. We heard you were staying in the city until your marriage, but things have been so hectic I haven't had time to greet you properly." Aragorn bestowed a genuinely friendly smile upon her, and Eowyn relaxed somewhat. So he wasn't bearing grudges. Wonderful! "I hope you're finding your rooms comfortable?"  
"Yes, of course my lord! There's a lovely view of the mountains. Thank you so much for your hospitality. Is my brother not here tonight? For I daresay he wishes to thank you himself." Eowyn glanced around the hall. It was a sign of her preoccupation that she hadn't immediately sought out her brother when she arrived for dinner!  
"I believe Eomer is still out touring the stables with Faramir. Strange... I would have expected them to be back by now..." Aragorn broke off as he saw Eowyn's face blanche. "Eowyn? Are you all right?"  
"Forgive me, Aragorn. I was just imagining the plethora of horrors Eomer may even at this very moment be subjecting Faramir to...Eomer has yet to give his wholehearted approval for our marriage, you see. I wouldn't put it past him to torture the poor boy with pranks or something..." Eowyn remembered the various tricks Eomer had pulled while they had been growing up in Edoras.  
Aragorn raised one eyebrow. He rather thought Faramir would object to being referred to as "the poor boy," and could more than likely take care of himself around Eomer. The young Steward had grown up with an older brother, after all. He decided to hold his silence, however.  
The King rose. "Shall we eat?" He offered his arm to Arwen with a loving smile, and they stepped off the dais. "Don't fret, Eowyn. I'm sure Faramir is more than capable of dealing with an irate King of Rohan."  
Aragorn and Arwen took their places at the head of the table. Eowyn walked to her seat alone. Drat it! Where was Faramir when she needed him? Now she had to make polite conversation with some distant cousin of his by herself. She enjoyed the food more than the company. It was excellent, and she privately reflected that she would after all always have servants to do the cooking and cleaning, so it really wasn't a complete catastrophe if she couldn't manage things by herself. Her embroidery, however, was another matter. . . from what she saw, needlework was all high-born ladies had to occupy themselves with in Gondor. How dull! Still, she was determined not to embarrass her husband.  
Two pairs of boots striding quickly towards the hall became audible. Eowyn looked up in time to see Eomer and Faramir step into the room, breathing heavily and bringing a small cloud of dust along with them. They walked up to the table. Faramir bowed to Aragorn and Eomer inclined his head.  
"I apologize for our late arrival, my Lord. We lost track of time. I hope we have not spoiled your dinner with our interruption?" Faramir spoke to the King but his eyes sought Eowyn's across the table. His dark eyes met her bright green ones, and his mouth turned up in a smile. Her heart swelled at the thought that he would smile just at seeing her; that she had to do nothing to prove her worth.  
Eowyn allowed herself a moment to appreciate him. Raven hair, worn middling-long, fell around an intelligent, kind face. He was tall and muscular, though her brother was bulkier, and he wore no beard. That fact secretly pleased her. The Rohirrim she had grown up with all began flaunting their facial hair as soon as physically possible. Eomer's frequent teasing of Faramir's clean-shaven face had yet to convince the Steward to grow a beard, of which she was thankful.  
Arwen answered. "Not at all, Faramir. But by your looks, you have an interesting story to relate as to why you are so late." She looked expectantly at the two miscreants. Eomer shifted slightly on his feet.  
"I must confess, Lady Arwen, that I could not resist challenging Faramir to a race after seeing some of the fine horses in your royal stables. I would have beaten him sooner, but I am new to this city and do not know all the streets as of yet..."  
"Beat me! I daresay! But no doubt it would have been a closer match had you not taken the King's horse and left me with your own paltry nag!" Faramir broke into a grin when Eomer glanced nervously at Aragorn.  
"Do you force me to defend the honor of my horse, sir?" Eomer asked indignantly.  
"Enough!" laughed Arwen. "It is quite clear that you have both returned in disgrace. Faramir for losing, and Eomer for borrowing the King's horse without permission. You must be hungry- please, sit down and eat." Arwen returned to her meal and Aragorn bowed his head to whisper to her.  
"You handled that beautifully, my dear" as he clasped her hand.  
There was an empty seat to Eowyn's left. Faramir headed towards it, but Eomer stepped rudely in front of him to claim the chair. Eowyn glared at her brother. "Will you never grow up, Eomer?"  
"Just because you're engaged doesn't mean you have to flaunt your lust in front of everyone. Some of us would like to eat in peace." Eowyn's face grew red as her brother reached across her to help himself to a piece of meat pie.  
"Flaunt our lust?" She whispered harshly. "Flaunt our lust? We're in love, Eomer, not involved in an affair! Really, have you no manners, to say such things at the King's table?" Eowyn clenched her fists under the table.  
"Calm down. I'm just trying to keep you two from disgracing yourselves before your wedding. If it were up to him you'd already be living together and—"  
Trying desperately to keep from dumping her soup on her brother's head, Eowyn suddenly stood, grabbed his arm, and led him away from the table.  
"How dare you impune Faramir's honor!" The irate shieldmaiden attempted to keep her voice low. "He's just as noble as you are, and you know it! I don't know why you're so upset... Eomer, don't you want me to be happy?"  
His eyebrows drew together in concern. "Of course I do! You're the only family I have left, Eowyn—I want only the best for you. But it's hard to let you go, and I don't want to do it any sooner than I have to." He clasped her shoulder.  
"In the future, will you please try to control yourself in public?" Still glaring, Eowyn stalked back to the table. "My apologies. . ." she began, but Aragorn waved her formality away.  
"It's quite all right, Eowyn. I think we all understand the trials siblings sometimes go through." The king bestowed a smile upon her, and Eowyn glowed. Though no longer infatuated with Aragorn, she respected him deeply and wanted only his wholehearted approval of her.  
When the meal was over, the guests retired to their own homes or quarters. A thought occurred to Eowyn, and she ran down the hallway after the Queen.  
"Arwen...lady Arwen! May I have a word with you?"  
The elf turned around. Perfectly graceful, as always Eowyn thought wryly. Why can't I be more like her? She stopped herself. I don't need to be exactly like her... I'd just like a little help dealing with matters of etiquette, that's all. Gathering her courage, she took a deep breath.  
"I'm sure you saw my display with my brother at dinner. I noticed the way you were able to handle his argument with Faramir, and I can't help but admire your ability to always deal with every crisis- however minor!- that occurs. I don't know you very well, my lady, but I was wondering... well, I was wondering if you'd be willing to teach me how to be a... how to be more of a... a lady." 


	2. Chapter Two: Arwen

Author's Note: Thanks to those of you who read and reviewed this work! I really appreciate it. Don't hesitate to do so again, or a first time if you haven't already. Once again, I claim no rights to these characters whatsoever, I'm merely borrowing them from J.R.R. Tolkien. Chapter two is written from Arwen's point of view; I plan on alternating chapters this way from now on. Oh, and since my italicizing didn't come across in Chapter One, I'll put thoughts in brackets when necessary. Thanks again! Hope you enjoy! –LOTR_nutcase  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Arwen Undomiel tried to hide her shock. Eowyn of Rohan, asking her for advice? She was humbled. Ever since she'd met her, Eowyn had seemed perfectly confident and at ease in any situation, never betraying uncertainty or shyness. Arwen admired that deeply, as it was her own tendency to avoid confrontation.  
Perhaps I shall make a friend in this city after all! She thought hopefully. Thought Arwen loved Aragorn with incredible depth, she longed for the kind of female companionship the ladies of Rivendell had enjoyed.  
"Why, of course, Eowyn! I would be thrilled to instruct you in female etiquette! Although from what I've seen, you don't need as much help as you seem to think you do." Eowyn's face broke into a quiet smile that grew as Arwen continued.  
"On one condition." The words burst from Arwen's mouth before she even thought them over. "In return, will you show me how to ride a horse astride? And how to build a campfire, and set up a tent, and sleep on the ground when it's necessary, and to consort with men that aren't as refined as Elves or my husband?" Embarrassed, Arwen stopped. "I'm sorry, I- it's just that. . . Aragorn misses his days as a Ranger, the freedom he had. . . I would like to be able to take him away from the city upon occasion, just for a bit. But he is so busy with matters of state, I fear he would have no time to help me master such things as these." Arwen clasped her hands in front of her.  
Suddenly, Eowyn reached out to take them.  
"I will be honored to help you, Arwen." Warm green eyes smiled at the Queen. "When shall we hold our first lessons?"  
Arwen relaxed. "If it suits you. . . tomorrow after midday, we could meet in the West garden? Oh!" A thought occurred to her. "Have you a gown to wear to the banquet next week?"  
Eowyn nodded. "Yes, but I'm afraid it's too short. I've only just arrived in the city, you see, and most of my old dresses... well, they're more work clothes than anything. I've been buying ready-made gowns, but I can't find anything that fits exactly right."  
"Bring it with you tomorrow, and I'll help you alter it. Then we can work on your dancing."  
Eowyn's eyes widened. "Dancing... oh, dear, I'd forgotten all about dancing! I only know a few of our victory dances. . . nothing Gondorian at all!"  
Arwen had always enjoyed a challenge. "Well, then, we'll have our work cut out for us to have you banquet-ready in a week." She glanced around. The hallway was deserted, and the shadows were long. "I must go now. Remember: tomorrow after midday!" She turned and began climbing a grand staircase. Like everything in the palace, it was ornately decorated in silver and sable. As she reached the top, she heard voices, and thought she recognized Eowyn's laugh.  
She should laugh more.Arwen thought. She's too serious for someone that young. I hope Faramir can crack her shell. No one deserves happiness more than those two. She gazed at portraits of past royalty and she walked towards their chambers. They were all beautifully appointed, stately people, but rarely did she come across a painting that smiled. Arwen sighed. She would consider it a personal duty to make sure the House of Telcontar was a joyful one. 


	3. Chapter Three: A Slightly Romantic Inter...

Yet Another Author's Note: In chapter 3, we go back to Eowyn's POV. Once again, I own nothing, corrupt everything. Muah! *ahem* This chapter gets slightly gushy, so if that bothers you, don't read. Nothing really explicit, though. Maybe PG-13, but I doubt it. Anywho...  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Eowyn watched Arwen glide gracefully up the staircase. The queen's silvery satin train slid silently across the ebony steps with a beauty of movement the Shieldmaiden hardly dared hope to achieve. She sighed and turned to go back to her suite of rooms.  
There was a slight draft in the hallway. Eowyn crossed her arms and rubbed them. Silk was beautiful, yes, but not warm. She examined the portraits of Gondorian nobles as she walked by. Stately and aloof, none of them smiled. For all their wealth and prestige, they didn't look happy. Whatever happens, she promised herself Faramir and I won't end up like that!   
A smaller hallway opened to her right. Across from it hung the portrait of a beautiful young woman with dark hair and darker eyes. Where had she seen those eyes? Puzzled, she turned fully towards the painting. So intent was she on the art that she failed, uncharacteristically, to sense the person creeping silently up behind her.  
A strong arm snaked suddenly around her waist, pinning her arms to her sides like an iron bar. At the same moment, a hand covered her mouth, and she was dragged out of the well-lit hall into the shadowed passageway.  
Eowyn never panicked, she only grew angry. Twisting suddenly, she raised her hands to strike her assailant in the stomach- only to have her fist enclosed in his. He drew her close against him until her breasts were crushed against his chest. Her arms he pinned behind her back.  
She kneed him in the groin.  
"Oof!" a grunt of pain erupted from the attacker. "I should have known better than to sneak up on a lady of Rohan!"  
"Faramir!" Eowyn ran to kneel next to the fallen Ranger. "Oh my dear- did I hurt you? I didn't kick you that hard, did I? I'm so sorr- " She broke off. "No! I'm NOT sorry! How dare you accost me?" Eowyn stood up and glared down at her fiancee.  
"Oh, but my love, if I'd really wanted you in my power, all I had to do," Faramir rolled to his knees and tackled her. The enraged Shieldmaiden lay beneath him on a woven throw rug. "was kiss you." And he did.  
For pride's sake Eowyn tried to resist. Her efforts were in vain, though, and in seconds she had melted against Faramir and wrapped her arms around his neck. I'm pathetic! She thought briefly, before surrendering completely. Faramir began to kiss his way along her neck. Eowyn tried to think clearly.  
"What... what did you wish to see me about?" She tilted her head to give him better access.  
"Hmm? Does a man need a reason-- besides the obvious-- to seek a brief assignation with his betrothed?" Eowyn laughed. Faramir drew away from her and grinned. "I haven't had a moment with you all day. I'm sorry if I've been neglecting you, but there's so much to do rebuilding the city, and reinstating bits of legislature that haven't been used since the last time there was a King..."  
Eowyn pressed her fingertips to his lips. "Shh. I understand. I've been busy myself, what with the wedding, and dealing with Eomer, and learning my way around. I've missed you, though."  
Faramir's eyes softened. He leaned down to kiss her tenderly, then helped her to her feet. Tucking her arm through his, he led her out into the main hall and began heading back towards the guest wing, where Eowyn's suite was.  
"Speaking of Eomer. . . I saw your confrontation at dinner, and I can't help wondering what it was about. Is there anything I can do to help?"  
What did I ever do to deserve such a kind man? Eowyn thought, love welling up in her heart. She squeezed Faramir's arm.  
"It's nothing serious. He just thinks we need to be kept further apart until the wedding. As if I weren't perfectly capable of looking after my own reputation!"  
"Well," Faramir chuckled, "To tell you the truth, if I had a beautiful, vibrant younger sister who was engaged to Eomer, I probably wouldn't want him hanging around her more than necessary, either. Men will be men..." He trailed off. Eowyn raised one eyebrow.  
"Is your intent to seduce me before our wedding night, then?" She asked frankly. Goodness! A part of me wants him to say yes! She tried to look disapproving. A glint of pure mischief appeared in Faramir's eyes. They had arrived at her door.  
He cradled her head in one arm and swept backwards over the other as she clung to his shoulders.  
"My intent, dear lady," Faramir bent close to her face. "Is for the next three weeks to be on very long, very frustrating seduction, the culmination of which will occur after we are married." With that, he kissed her passionately.  
I can't get enough of him! Eowyn marveled at the sensations racing through her blood. She returned the kiss eagerly.  
"I can't leave the two of you alone for a moment, can I?" Eomer grasped Faramir's shoulder and jerked him roughly away from Eowyn. "I love you, sister, and for that reason and that reason only I will refrain from thrashing your betrothed." Faramir looked amused. Eomer was incensed.  
Eowyn rolled her eyes. "Goodnight, gentlemen. Please don't kill each other. Arwen will be horrified if she finds blood on her beautiful floors." She turned and swept-- or tried to sweep-- into her chamber. Once she heard two sets of footsteps recede down the hallway, she walked to her dressing room and began rummaging through boxes. Her festival dress was around here somewhere, and she wanted to have one of the maids press it before the queen saw it the next day. 


	4. Chapter Four: The First Lesson

Author's Note: Wow! Thanks to all of you who've reviewed this story so far :) My usual disclaimer: I own none of these characters, they all belong to Tolkien and I am just borrowing them for my own amusement. So here we go, back to Arwen's POV.  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
"1, 2, 3, 4 and 1, 2, 3, 4. . . good! You're quite graceful, Eowyn, but the dance would look more natural if you'd unclench your jaw and relax your forehead. You're doing fine!" The late afternoon sun beamed down on a strange sight: the Queen of Gondor dancing, without music, with Eowyn of Rohan. Behind the high, ivied walls of Arwen's private garden (very Elvish- looking), the two had been practicing since lunch. Eowyn was showing great aptitude for the physicality of the movements, but not for the mentality of the ancient Gondorian Dance of Love.  
Arwen led Eowyn to a stone bench under a sprawling oak tree. How could she explain to the shieldmaiden the importance of attitude when dancing?  
"The Dance of Love is a tradition for Gondorian couples dating back. . . oh, goodness. . . at least a thousand years. The steps are designed to convey the depth of devotion between the participants. Elessar and I performed it at our wedding, but most couples do it at their engagement feast. If you merely go through the motions, Eowyn, it will be evident to the bystanders that you do not truly love Faramir."  
Eowyn started to protest. Arwen cut her off.  
"Regardless of the fact that you do love him, that is what they will think. Learning the steps is not nearly so important as putting your heart and soul into every movement. Now, let's look at your dress."  
Eowyn glanced skeptically at Arwen, but if she had any doubts about the Queen's sincerity she kept them to herself. Arwen helped her open the large, flat box she had brought with her to the garden. As Eowyn pulled her gown from its wrappings, Arwen gasped in delight.  
"Oh! How beautiful! It's almost Elvish-looking" she said wistfully, "Did it come from Dol Amroth?" Arwen fingered the delicate embroidery as Eowyn answered.  
"Yes—how did you know? It was a gift from one of Faramir's cousins there. Lothiriel, I think is her name. Her letter said she'd found it in storage. It belonged to Faramir's mother, apparently, and she thought I might like to have it."  
Arwen studied the gown. White silk with embroidered white floweres formed a flowing under-skirt and bodice with a draped neckline. At the shoulders fastened a gold over-robe that belted to form something between a cloak and a train.  
"How miraculous. It suits your coloring perfectly. You said it was a little too short?"  
Eowyn blushed. "And too large in the bust. Can you help me alter it?"  
"Of course! Let's take it back to my sitting room and start right away! We can't have you anything less than resplendent for the banquet." Arwen stood to go back inside. She was stopped by Eowyn's hand on her arm.  
"Wait—I haven't held up my end of the bargain yet!" A decidedly wicked gleam came into her eyes. "Leave the dress here for a minute and come with me." Eowyn walked to the far corner of the garden. As she approached, Arwen saw that a small pile of wood was sitting there.  
Eowyn knelt on the stone walkway. She took two stones from the small pouch at her waist. "Now, to start a fire, you need some sort of material that will catch fire very easily. Charred cloth works well, but if you don't have any you can use dried grass or tree bark." She made a small pile of some of the blackened material heaped next to the wood. "Strike the flint" Eowyn held a small stone in her left hand "with the steel," she held up another rock-like lump "and try to aim some of the sparks at the tinder." A shower of sparks shot towards the cloth. "Here, you try!"  
Arwen knelt next to Eowyn and took the flint and steel from her. Awkwardly, she knocked the two stones together. A few sparks halfheartedly jumped from the strikers. Arwen glared at the lumps in her hands and hit the flint harder with the steel. Sparks flew, and she dropped the firestarters in surprise. "Oh, my!" She looked up to find Eowyn convulsed with laughter.  
Arwen glared. She was trying, darn it, and being laughed at! How dare she! Picking up the flint and steel, she struck them determinedly and managed to land a few sparks on the charred cloth. Arwen watched triumphantly as the tinder began to glow with heat.  
"There! You see? I got it!! Now what?"  
Still giggling, Eowyn stammered "Add a few twigs or pine needles, anything that will burn a little hotter." Arwen dropped some dried grass onto the tinder. "Careful! Not too much at first, or you'll smother it!"  
Arwen kept adding more bits of matter and the tiny flame began to grow. Soon she was placing sticks on it, and finally a small log. Delighted, she sat back Glancing at Eowyn, she saw that the Shieldmaiden was still filled with barely-concealed mirth.  
"I'm sorry," Eowyn apologized with a laugh "It's just that you looked so intent, like the task was completely foreign to you. Which I guess it was. . . "she looked at the sky "It took you a good hour to manage it!"  
Arwen eased the kinks out of her shoulders and raised herself from her awkward position. "Goodness—I had no idea it had been that long!" Regrettfully, she added "I'm sorry, Eowyn, but I won't have time to work on your dress tonight. Aragorn and I have some sort of state function to attend. But if you could bring it to my rooms tomorrow . . .?" She waited expectantly for Eowyn's answer. What if she didn't want to come? What if she hadn't felt today was worthwhile? What if she didn't like her?  
"I quite understand, Arwen. Of course I'll bring the dress tomorrow, I only hope I'm not putting you to any trouble." Eowyn knit her brow. "I'm not, am I?"  
"Not at all!" She was quickly reassured. "I quite enjoyed our lessons today. I can hardly wait to get cracking tomorrow! Tell me—do you sew?" Eowyn avoided Arwen's eyes.  
"Well... no, not really. I mean, I can stitch leather armor, but my dresses are all much more delicate than anything I've ever handled before." Arwen's smile widened into a full grin.  
"Don't be late, then! We have our work cut out for us—again!" She turned and walked towards the palace. A thought occurred to her. "Wait, what about the fire? We can't just leave it burning!"  
Eowyn produced a bucket of water. "I'll take care of it. You'd better go get ready!" 


	5. Chapter Five: The Second Lesson

Author's Note: Whew! Sorry it took awhile to get this chapter up, if anybody's keeping track. My muse has been a little slow. As always: I own none of these characters, I am making no money off of them, etc. Thanks for the reviews, guys!! More, more! :)  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The next day Eowyn carefully carried the dress to Arwen's chamber. Balancing the box on one hip, she knocked lightly on the richly carved door.  
"Enter!" The Queen's voice was muffled by the thick mahogany. Still awkwardly toting the dress, Eowyn nudged open the door and walked in to the most beautifully appointed room she had ever seen. Arwen's sitting room was large, with a row of floor-to-ceiling windows letting in light from the West. Shades of leaf-green, yellow, and pale blue brought the same Elvish touch that Eowyn had felt in the Queen's garden indoors. Arwen herself was standing in front of the windows, hands clasped in front of her, staring out over the mountains. Eowyn saw her quickly wipe away a single tear as she turned around.  
"Arwen . . . is everything all right? Have I come at a bad time?"  
Arwen smiled, and the slight look of sadness left her face. "Of course not, Eowyn. I was only wishing . . .well, no matter. I'm fine now." She reached to take the box from Eowyn's arms. "Here, let's set this down." She set the box on a curved sofa and whipped the top off. Reaching in, Arwen lifted up the gown and held it out to Eowyn.  
"Put it on!"  
Eowyn took a step backwards. She glanced nervously at the open windows, at the Queen of Gondor, and back at the windows.  
"Uh. . . are you sure that's necessary?" She bit her lip.  
"Oh, don't worry about the windows. The view is lovely, but Aragorn assured me that no one can see in from any point in the city. Something about the angle reflecting the sun . . . to tell the truth I wasn't paying much attention!" Arwen's eyes crinkled with laughter.  
Reluctantly, Eowyn took the dress from her. She looked around for something to step behind. She still didn't quite trust the windows . . .  
Arwen spoke again. "Let me just step into the bedroom to get my sewing basket while you change." She disappeared through a doorway to Eowyn's left, disguised by the clever placement of a potted tree. As soon as Arwen left, Eowyn undid the buttons on her worn work-dress and slipped it off. She stepped quickly into the embroidered under-dress and tied the silk ribbon fastenings on the sides. Looking around the room, she noticed a full-length mirror tucked into one corner and walked over to it.  
Eowyn peered into the mirror and gasped in shock. Blushing, she threw her hands over the gaping neckline of her dress—or lack thereof! She spun around as she heard Arwen's laughter.  
"Oh dear! It is a little big in the bust, isn't it? Don't worry, we'll soon have that repaired. It shouldn't take long. Now come over here and stand in the light."  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Well, she certainly seems to know what she's doing! Eowyn thought an hour later, as she stood with her arms outstretched. The Queen of Gondor was busily tucking and pinning bits of material, and Eowyn had long ago lost track of what was going on. Her position was becoming uncomfortable; she had never been one to sit still for long.  
"How much longer will this take, Arwen?" Eowyn asked, trying to sound patient and gracious. The reply was muffled by the pins stuck in Arwen's mouth.  
"Only a few more. Just hold still!"  
Eowyn managed to contain her sigh. At least, she reflected I have a nice view! The window revealed busy streets on all the levels of the city, as well as the plains and mountains beyond. She could just make out a band of riders approaching Minas Tirith, and wondered briefly if Faramir was one of them. She had heard him mention something about visiting the nearer outlying villages with the King that day, but, as usual, hadn't had the opportunity to ask him about it. Eomer had apparently enlisted help in keeping them apart: every time she was granted a chance to approach her betrothed Eowyn found herself waylaid by "an urgent decision" concerning the wedding. The order of feast courses had never seemed so important to the servants, nor the flower arrangements or dress embroidery or seating of guests. At times she wanted to scream I don't care! All I want is to be married, to start my life with Faramir. Why can't we just get it all over with?. Yet Eowyn knew how much tradition and formality meant to the people, and even to their friends and what family they had.  
"There! All done with this first fitting!" Arwen stood, beaming. Eowyn's face, at first bursting into smile at the thought of freedom, fell. "First? How many more will there be?"  
"Oh, we'll have to make sure the fit is still right after we finish sewing every day, but that won't take as long as this first time." Arwen carefully laid the dress out on the sofa and sat beside it. "Well? What are you waiting for? The banquet is in five days, Eowyn, let'' get started!"  
The work, which the Shieldmaiden would normally have found beyond dull, was livened by the presence of her friend. As Arwen taught Eowyn the finer points of sewing, she dropped bits of advice and gossip into the conversation. The time passed quickly, but before she left for the evening Eowyn summoned her nerve to ask the Queen a question.  
Arwen saw her to the door, and as she stepped out, Eowyn turned to hesitantly ask, "Arwen . . . what was it? The thought that caused you such pain before I came? I would know, that I might help you."  
Arwen's face grew grave. "I do not wish to give you the wrong idea—to make you think I am anything less than deliriously happy with Aragorn. Yet I have one regret—only one. I wish that my parting with my father had been less bitter, that I had said kinder words to him. His pain was great, yet I saw only my own happiness." Eowyn's heart went out to her friend as she saw her pain.  
"Oh, Arwen . . ."  
Arwen smiled gently. "Do not weep for my heartache, Eowyn. I thank you for lending an ear, it is good to have that guilt off of my shoulders. Shall we meet tomorrow at the same time?"  
Recognizing that Arwen did not want to talk about her grief, Eowyn let her drop the subject.  
"Certainly! I will look forward to it, though not to the fittings!" Laughing, the two parted. Arwen to change for dinner, Eowyn to her rooms to think up a way to escape her brother's eagle-eyed watch. 


	6. Chapter Six: The Plot is Hatched

Yet Another Author Note: Wow! Thanks to everyone for reviewing!! You have no idea how nice it is to know someone is actually reading this stuff! The muse has struck again, so here goes nothing. (As always, I own none of the characters in this story, they belong to JRR Tolkien and I am making no money off of their corruption.)  
~*~*~*~*~*~  
"Perhaps you should stick to sewing. . ." Arwen suggested hesitantly. "After all, you're still learning, and embroidery can be difficult."  
Eowyn looked up from her work, the look of concentration of her face easing somewhat as her hands loosed from the muslin hoop she was gripping. It was printed with a basic design of a moon and stars, and Eowyn had begun outlining it with colored silk thread. Or at least, she was attempting to. Her stitches were large, crooked, and tangled. Despite the fact that she'd been at it for over an hour, she had shown no improvement. If anything, her tension was making her worse.  
"If I give up now, I'll never learn. This horrid pasttime is boring and apparently pointless, but from what I've seen it's the sole occupation of Gondorian ladies of rank."  
Arwen rolled her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. Do you see me sitting around stabbing a needle into material constantly? Of course not! I have much more useful things to do with what time remains to me. But I have had hundreds of years to perfect the skill, and I've found that it's rather rewarding to be able to make a personalized gift for someone. Like the standard I made for Aragorn." She reached over and took the non-embroidery from Eowyn. "Now, since you're so determined to fight your nature at every turn, I'll show you again. This is a needle, not a sword: handle it as such." She delicately pushed it through the taut cloth. Arwen looked up and saw Eowyn trying to hide a yawn.  
Amused, she said "Well, if it's that boring I can't imagine why you're so set on doing it!"  
Eowyn blushed slightly. "Sorry. I'm afraid I didn't get much sleep last night. What with the banquet tomorrow, and the wedding and everything else, I've been busy. This week has flown by!"  
Indeed it had, Arwen thought. For several days their "lessons" had consisted of frantically readying Eowyn's dress for the festival. They'd managed to finish it ahead of schedule (Eowyn was quite good at sewing in a straight line, it turned out, though she couldn't handle anything too complicated) and had, at her request, moved on to embroidery. Which Arwen privately thought a complete waste of Eowyn's energy. She kept that opinion to herself, though.  
"I've been meaning to ask you—how are the wedding plans coming along?" Arwen made a few stitches in the cloth, then gave it back to Eowyn.  
Taking the hoop, she glared at it for a moment before picking up the needle and beginning again. "Oh, the wedding. It's coming along, I suppose. How the actual marriage is going to work out, I have no idea."  
Arwen hid her shock. She had always understood Eowyn and Faramir to be completely devoted to one another, and had not anticipated any problems. "What do you mean?"  
"I mean," Eowyn replied absently as she concentrated on making a tiny stitch "that my brother has taken it upon himself to keep Faramir and me from sharing more than a polite nod in the hallway. I haven't spoken to the man for nearly five days! It's making me insane, but Eomer's enlisted the help of practically all the servants somehow, and however hard I try I can't seem to win them over."  
"What's your brother's excuse for treating you like a child deserving punishment?"  
Eowyn tossed away the embroidery in defeat. She dramatically threw her hands up over her head and leaned against the back of Arwen's sofa. "Somehow he has gotten it into his miniscule brain that Faramir is planning on seducing me before our wedding and has taken it into his own hands to prevent it."  
"Sounds rather contrived to me."  
"Immensely."  
Arwen pondered the problem for a moment. Then she said matter-of- factly "Well, then I suppose I'll just have to arrange a rendezvous for you. You'll see each other tomorrow night, of course, but with so many people you won't get a moment alone unless you're dancing, and that's not too condusive to conversation. Afterwards, however, is another story. So many people will be leaving at once no one will notice you slipping off to my garden. I'll unlock the gate, and you and Faramir can meet there for a few moments." Arwen grinned wickedly. "But I'll be keeping track of time—if you're too long I'll find Eomer and come in after you."  
As Arwen related her plan, Eowyn's face lit up with relief and happiness. Arwen soon found herself enveloped in her friend's enthusiastic embrace.  
"Thank you, thank you—a thousand times!" Drawing back, Eowyn stood and danced around the room. Arwen couldn't help her laughter.  
Eowyn stopped and came back to the sofa. Grabbing Arwen's hand, she herded the Queen to the door. "Enough embroidery for now! I have something else to teach you, and now is as good a time as any!"  
"Where are we going?" Arwen asked as she was dragged out the door.  
Green eyes twinkled. "Wait and see!" 


	7. Chapter Seven: The Plot Grows Angsty

Author's Note: OK. So it's been awhile. Righto. I own naught, this is all Tolkien's. Thanks for the reviews!!! Love 'em. :)  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Eowyn pulled Arwen behind her. They ran, laughing, past the palace servants, nobility, peasants and workers in the streets. Minas Tirith's cobblestones rang with the sound of Arwen's wood-heeled slippers, but Eowyn's soft leather boots were muffled.  
Finally they reached their destination. Eowyn looked around, and spotting no one she yanked open a pair of great double doors. She pulled Arwen in after her, sliding to the left as soon as they were through the doorway. As her eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness, Eowyn searched for signs of people. Finding none, she let go of her friend's hand and stepped away from the wall. She took a deep, satisfied breath and raised her hands, turning slowly in a circle.  
"Welcome, Arwen, to the Royal Stable! Have you not been here before?" Eowyn noticed Arwen's curious face as the Queen observed their surroundings.  
"Yes, once, on my first tour of the city. . . but I never had a chance to really examine anything. All this for horses? It's beautiful!"  
Eowyn silently agreed with her. The stable was just as richly furnished as the palace itself, only in a slightly more equine manner. From the thick wooden floor to the high ceiling of thick beams, the stable was full of carved stone and polished wood. More ornately furnished than the Edoras stables, Eowyn nevertheless preferred those she had grown up with.  
"It's too quiet, though. Just look at all these empty stalls! Disgraceful." Eowyn walked from gate to gate examining the contents or lack thereof. Less than half of the stable was in actual use. When she had asked her brother about the small number of horses in Gondor, he had explained that the animals were little used in Minas Tirith, and that most military beasts were corralled outside city limits. Eowyn considered it a shame to waste such a magnificent space. Once I am married, she thought for the hundredth time I will be the second-highest ranking lady in Minas Tirith. Perhaps I'll be able to convince everyone to make more use of horses. Forgetting Arwen and what had brought them there in the first place, Eowyn floated momentarily off to a dreamland involving horses, racing over open plains, all the while with her love beside her...  
The sound of voices startled her out of her reverie. At least two men could be heard entering the stables through the back door. Eowyn frantically looked around for Arwen. Where had she run off to? As the intruders' speech grew louder, Eowyn desperately searched for a hiding place. Just as the men rounded the last corner, she ducked hastily into the nearest stall. Thankfully, it was unoccupied.  
Closing the door behind her, Eowyn leaned against it and hoped that it wasn't the destination of one of the stable's visitors. Please don't come in here; please don't come in here...  
"It appears I've managed to beat you yet again, Faramir." Eowyn recognized her brother's low, rough voice.  
"A better horse does not necessarily denote a better rider. Were I on that mount I would have won the race as easily as you, and without your showy tricks!" Faramir's more cultured tone spoke up. This was worse than Eowyn had thought. Her brother had expressly forbidden her from riding in—or out of—Minas Tirith alone, and if he caught her in the stables without an escort he would know that that had indeed been her plan.  
Eowyn heard the stall next to her open, and someone led a horse into it and began to care for the animal.  
"Yes, yes, we've all heard that excuse before, Steward." Eomer sounded slightly amused. Eowyn was shocked; she hadn't heard her brother sound that carefree in years. "The fact is I'm a better rider and you know it. In fact, the only people I've ever lost to are my late cousin, Theodred, and my sister."  
Faramir's voice came from the stall across the walkway. "Ah, yes, your sister. Little do I doubt her skill in horsemanship! I am concerned, though, that I have not seen her for some time. Well, let me rephrase that...I have seen her, but I have not had a private conversation with her for days." His voice crackled with dry sarcasm. "In fact, it's almost as though the entire palace staff and all its residents are conspiring to keep us apart. Now, Eomer, who do you suppose could be behind that?" Eowyn heard Faramir step out of the stall. Peeking through a crack between the gate and the wall, she could see him. Clad in tattered Ranger clothing, hair and skin windblown, and absolutely beautiful in her eyes, he leaned against a doorway and crossed his arms.  
Eomer stood across from him. "Yes, well, I've been meaning to speak with you about that..." he cleared his throat, and all trace of amusement left his tone. "I like you, Faramir. You're a noble man, and I'm sure you would make any woman a wonderful partner. But I love my sister. In a way I feel responsible for her despair and her struggles before and during the War. It was, in part, my neglect that sent her to what she thought would be her death. I would make amends for that if I could, but life can not be relived, can it?"  
"I nearly died when I thought I had lost Eowyn. When I learned she was alive I felt a joy that I have never since known the match of, and I vowed then that I would see her joyous for the rest of her days. I had hoped..." Here Eomer hesitated "that she would find fulfillment with Lord Aragorn. She seemed alive when he was near. His heart was given to another, however, and I would not have her marry you if she holds even the slightest of feelings for him as more than a leader and a friend. 'Twould not be just to her or you." Eomer broke off as though unsure of how to continue. Faramir finished his statement for him.  
"I see. You fear that Eowyn still loves Aragorn and is only turning to me as a way to assuage her pain? I confess that the same thoughts crossed my mind when she first told me she loved me." Eowyn's jaw dropped when she heard Faramir's confession. Had he so little faith in her?  
Eomer spoke again. "I am trying to distance you before the wedding so that she may grow sure of her own heart. If, by the day of the marriage, she still wishes wholeheartedly to wed you, I will see you bound together with all my blessing and approval. But no power on this earth could make me give her in marriage to a man if there is even the slightest doubt in her mind as to whether or not she truly loves him."  
How dare they talk about her like this behind her back? How DARE they!  
Eowyn could see Faramir nod, but a steely determination came into his face then, and she knew at last why his men followed him to certain death.  
"I love Eowyn, Eomer, and I too would see her happy. If you desire that she is given time to learn her own heart then so be it." With that, Faramir left the stables, his stride brisk and businesslike, as though he couldn't wait to leave.  
An enraged Eowyn had to concentrate fully on restraining herself from bursting out of the stall and confronting her brother. Finally, he stopped puttering about and left. As soon as she heard the outer door shudder closed, she slammed the stall gate open and stormed into the aisle.  
"Of all the overbearing...self-righteous...as if their actions had any control over mine! As if keeping us apart could keep me from loving Faramir! My own brother! And Faramir! Have they no faith in me? Do they not trust me to understand my own heart? They cannot possibly..." Eowyn paced back and forth across the stable as curious horses looked on. Her anger grew with each step.  
Then she felt a restraining hand on her shoulder. Turning around, she saw Arwen looking at her with a sympathetic anger that told her the Queen had also heard the entire conversation. Eowyn blushed, embarrassed at having her business aired in front of someone else. She stammered a few words, and tried to put on her customary front of brave arrogance, but found she couldn't do it. Tears welled in her eyes, and then could not be restrained. Eowyn burst into quiet sobs.  
As she poured out all of her anger and frustration, she felt herself enfolded in the embrace of a friend. A true friend.  
*~*~*~*~*~* Author's Note: NO this is NOT slash. Purely platonic, I promise you. 


	8. Chapter Eight: The Plot Thickens

Author's Note: Chapter 7 turned out a little more angst-y than I had originally planned. You see, at the beginning, I really had no idea that the plot was going to go this direction. It just kind of happened. Going on from here, the story will probably deviate a little from my original plans, so apologies in advance for unexpected twists. (  
My standard disclaimer applies: I don't own any of these characters or places, they all belong to Tolkien and I'm not making any money off of any of this.  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
Arwen held Eowyn until her tears subsided. They walked silently back to the Palace together, and Arwen led Eowyn to her private garden. If servants looked at them strangely (it wasn't every day they saw a tear- stained Lady of Rohan in their midst), the Queen stared them into silence. Once again the two ladies sat on the bench under the ancient tree, and finally Eowyn spoke.  
"I apologize for my behavior, Arwen. Embarrassing though that conversation was it was hardly an excuse for weeping like a child. But most of all I apologize to you for having to hear that..."  
Arwen drew herself up until her back was stiff as a poker. "Whatever do you mean, Eowyn? I would think that hearing one's brother talking to one's fiancé about oneself behind one's back would make anyone distraught. And I don't regret knowing all about the situation, though I am sorry you didn't tell me yourself before I overheard it."  
Eowyn's face turned scarlet. "Yes, well, about Aragorn...you must understand, Arwen, it was only a girlish infatuation. I thought that if he loved me he could take me away from all my problems at home, and when I learned he would not, I felt as though my last hope had gone. So I disguised myself as a man and ran away. But even death escaped me. My body healed, but my soul did not, until the freely given love of a noble man taught me that those who truly care for me would not expect anything of me except my own happiness. Faramir's love was unconditional, and when I realized that, I knew that I loved him in return. That will never go away, no matter how long they keep me from him." Eowyn's expression changed from sorrowful to determined as she spoke. Arwen's lips curved in a slight smile.  
"Well! Then it appears all we have to do is convince Eomer and Faramir than you are truly in love, and harbor no secret affections for Aragorn!" Arwen stood and began pacing, looking thoughtful.  
"But...what...you don't mind?" Eowyn stammered.  
Arwen stopped and studied her friend. "What would I mind? That you realized your mind's error and found peace within yourself? That you're madly in love with an excellent man that everyone in the city adores? That you're happy—or will be, if your brother would stop meddling long enough for you to—that's IT!" Triumphant adrenaline rushed through Arwen's body, and she spun in a swift circle crying out in elation.  
"That's what?" Eowyn sounded puzzled.  
Arwen grabbed the Shieldmaiden's hands and pulled her to her feet. "Remember our plan to get you and Faramir alone tomorrow night?" Eowyn nodded. "Well, we're going to hold to that course, but with a slight change. While you're dragging Faramir off, I'll be distracting Eomer—and I think I know the exact means! Aragorn told me he became quite besotted with a maid he met in Rohan when you became engaged. Do you remember?"  
Eowyn furrowed her brow. "Well...I was a bit preoccupied at the time; you know...I wasn't exactly paying attention to anyone besides myself and Faramir..." She looked slightly guilty, and Arwen laughed.  
"Well, you're in for a surprise. According to the palace gossip, Eomer has become quite, shall we say, interested in a certain maiden from Dol Amroth...your very own cousin-to-be Lothiriel!" Arwen stifled her giggles at Eowyn's surprised look.  
"Lothiriel? As in, the one who gave me my banquet gown? THAT Lothiriel? I've met her and I don't even remember? Oh, how awful!" Eowyn started in on what Arwen could see was in danger of becoming a rant. "You see, this is exactly what I'm talking about! Any real Lady would remember such an important person, but not me! No, I'm too busy making doe-eyes at my fiancé to pay attention to my own brother falling for a future relative!..." she was interrupted before she could continue.  
"Never mind that. The point is, I'll see to it that Eomer is kept more than occupied by Lothiriel all night, and you'll be free to have a good long talk with Faramir."  
Eowyn looked hopeful for a moment, but her face soon fell. "But you heard Faramir...he thinks we need time apart as well. What if he won't come away to the garden with me?" That thought had bothered Arwen as well, but she waved the possible difficulty aside.  
"Don't worry. If that happens I'll think of something. Are you feeling better now?"  
Eowyn nodded. "Thank you for understanding, Arwen. It's been so long since I've had a friend, I... well, thank you. And I do promise that I'm not infatuated with Aragorn anymore!" She said the last sentence in an attempt at bringing a light note to the conversation, but Arwen heard the shame in her voice.  
"There's nothing wrong with a little crush on someone before you find your soul mate." Arwen rolled her eyes at herself. "Why, you wouldn't believe the number of Elves I thought I wanted to spend my life with when I was younger...I feel so silly looking back on it all!" She chuckled. Both ladies then noticed that the sun was beginning to set. Promising to meet the next evening to ready themselves for the festival—and the implementation of their scheme—they departed to their respective chambers. Arwen wondered if here husband would again be too tired to do anything but sleep by the time he came to their rooms, or if she would actually have a chance to talk to him. Though he never openly stated it, she knew the burdens of leadership weighed heavily on his shoulders. If only he would let her help him! 


	9. Chapter Nine: The Last Breath before the...

Author's Note: A big round of *hugs* and thanks to everyone who reviewed the last update of Lady Lessons! And more thanks to those of you who read The Battle of Five Armies as well :) It's really inspiring to hear people say good things about my stories...if it weren't for you all I probably wouldn't have the will power to finish it! So THANK YOU once again.  
(As always: I own none of this, it all belongs to the Professor, blah blah blah)  
Oh, and if *this* chapter doesn't go anywhere, I promise the next one will. Really!  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
The day of the festival dawned gloriously in pink and blue swirls, but Eowyn missed it. That day was one of the few in her life during which she slept past sunrise. She had lain awake, planning the course and timing she would use to fool her brother, until the small hours of the morning, so it was late when she woke.  
Eowyn managed to while away most of the day taking notes from a book on herb-lore she had found in the palace's dusty library. But as the afternoon waned into evening, she could no longer stand the suspense. Gathering up her things, she headed to Arwen's chambers. The Queen had ignored her friend's skepticism and insisted that Eowyn partake of a bit of royal pampering before the eventful night.  
When she arrived, Eowyn found Arwen already prepared. Explaining that she and Aragorn had to receive all the guests as they arrived, she remarked,  
"It will be ever so boring- I wouldn't recommend coming until at least sundown. You'll have time for a good long soak and primp beforehand. The dressing room is through there-"Arwen gestured to the door behind the potted tree "-help yourself to anything you want!" With that she departed in a sea of midnight-blue velvet.  
Eowyn walked to the door. Hesitantly, she cracked it open, then with a gasp of delight she threw the door back and stepped inside.  
Thought not by any means a fastidious or proper girl, even the Shieldmaiden of Rohan could appreciate Arwen's dressing room. Simple river- rock covered the floor, but the walls were painted intricately with forest scenes. Candles in tall carven sconces chased away the evening shadows, but Eowyn could see that in the daytime the room would be well-lit by frosted windows. Across the room stood another door, presumably leading to the Royal bedchamber. The focal point of the dressing-room was a gigantic sunken tub, already filled with steaming water, flanked by stands full of the wildest array of colored bottles (filled with floral-scented substances), brushes, and candles Eowyn had ever seen. More sat on a carven dressing-table in a corner. She felt as though she'd stepped into the private retreat of a wood-elf. Which, she realized with a start I have!  
The entire setup was completely foreign to Eowyn, who was used to washing with cool water from a basin, or a small, cramped tub in front of a fireplace. Nevertheless, she dove into this haven of femininity without a second thought. She soaked in the water until her muscles were relieved of the day's tension and allowed a maid to wash and comb her hair. Dismissing the servant with a smile, Eowyn then dug through Arwen's perfumes to find one that suited her- subtle but wild. She donned the gold-and-white gown (I must remember to thank Lothiriel in person tonight!) and allowed her hair to fall in gentle waves down her back. Taking a deep breath, she stepped back into the sitting room and faced the mirror.  
A lady looked back. Slim and tall, she was pale, with the faintest trace of freckles across her nose to softer her innately haughty beauty. The gold of her gown made her eyes the deep green of the flag of Rohan, but it was rivaled by the glistening shine of her hair. Her face appeared perfectly aloof and cold- until Eowyn smiled. The spell broke. Eowyn grinned in triumph. She looked like a lady! Now, if she could only manage to behave like one for a few hours...  
*~*~*  
Eowyn entered the Great hall confidently. She strode directly to the dais, bowed, then spoke to Arwen.  
"Well, here I am! Have you seen my brother or Faramir?" Arwen nodded almost imperceptibly towards Aragorn, and Eowyn remembered not to say anything of their plan.  
"Yes, I believe Eomer is on the balcony speaking with one of the captains. Let me show you the way..." Arwen started to step down, but stopped at her husband's amused voice.  
"What are you two plotting, I wonder?" The Queen's back was to the King, but Eowyn saw her dramatic grimace and stifled a laugh.  
"Why, whatever are you insinuating, Elessar?"  
"Nothing, my love. Only remarking on the fact that Eowyn knows perfectly well where the balcony is and that there's something you don't want me to hear."  
"Perhaps I merely want a moment with my dear friend away from this dull receiving line." Arwen glanced around the room. "We're done here, anyway. They'll be serving dinner in a moment. I shall meet you at the table when they do." With that she swept away, Eowyn following behind her.  
As soon as they reached the balcony, Arwen drew her behind a column and lowered her voice. "Things are working out beautifully! Eomer hasn't seen Lothiriel yet that I can tell, there are so many people here. We'll all sit at the high table as usual, but as soon as we adjourn to the ballroom I'll take your brother aside and re-introduce him his lady-love. When you see me lead him off, you must grab Faramir and escape to my garden. I've left it unlocked. Will that work, do you think?" Eowyn thought for a moment. Her only fear was that Faramir, in a moment of over-nobility, would refuse to come away with her to comply with her brother's wishes. If he did, she'd think of something. Her wit hadn't deserted her yet. She nodded.  
Arwen smiled, a mischievous glint in her eyes. Eowyn felt her own mouth rise into a wide grin. If Eomer and Faramir thought they could outwit the combined strength of Arwen Undomiel of Gondor and Eowyn Shieldmaiden of Rohan, then were in for a lesson in humility.  
*~*~*~*~*~* Author's Note: OK. I know this chapter doesn't *seem* to have accomplished much, but I needed it in here. Chap. 10 will cover Arwen distracting Eomer, and Chap. 11 will have Eowyn and Faramir's tryst. 


	10. Chapter Ten: A Diversion

AN: I told you I'd get to it. (Still don't own anything—do I really need to add this disclaimer at every chapter? Better safe than sorry I guess...)  
*~*~*~*~*~*  
The chief herald raised a golden trumpet and sounded a light fanfare. Arwen saw Aragorn rise and head to the high table. Time for dinner! She and Eowyn walked back into the Great Hall, holding their heads high and pretending nonchalance at their disappearance.  
But their minor breach of etiquette was not the only reason people were staring. Arwen had hundreds of years of experience, and knew how to look magnificent when the occasion called for it, but she was pleasantly thrilled at Eowyn's appearance that evening. Men were openly gawking at the unattached (technically) lady. Women were floored by Eowyn's transformation from bumbling Shieldmaiden to a lovely courtier. Those dancing lessons really paid off! Arwen thought. The superlative dress didn't hurt either.  
Arwen took her seat next to Aragorn. Examining the arrangements, she saw that Eomer had been at work again: Eowyn and Faramir were as very nearly opposite as two people could be seated at a long table. She mentally rolled her eyes at his efforts.  
The banquet progressed without incident (unless one counted a slightly tipsy Imrahil attempting to woo the serving-girl bringing his wine). Arwen managed to distract Eomer from noticing the naturally-quiet Lothiriel until they rose to go to the ballroom. Darting into the crowd, she pulled the Princess aside to speak.  
"Lothiriel! How wonderful you look tonight!" Arwen began truthfully. The young lady was splendid in white silk. She had dark auburn hair and large blue eyes. Though she had a reputation for being quiet, she was by no means shy. "Are you enjoying your stay in Minas Tirith?"  
"We've only just arrived. I barely had time to look around before we came to the banquet." Perfect! Arwen thought.  
"Lothiriel...I was wondering if you could do me a favor. Eowyn and I, actually." Lothiriel looked at her curiously. "You see, Eowyn's older brother is being a bit of an overbearing, well, bore, and we would appreciate it every so much if you could just..."  
Lothiriel's eyes snapped up to hers with instant understanding. "Ah. This would be Eomer of Rohan we're discussing, then?" Arwen nodded. Lothiriel looked suddenly apprehensive. "Since you never do anything halfway, from what I hear, I must assume that you have a reason for choosing me, specifically, out of everyone here, to perform this, er, distraction?" Was it Arwen's imagination or did the young woman appear slightly eager?  
"You're right, of course." Arwen began slyly. "You obviously remember Eomer from your meeting in Rohan weeks ago...what you don't know is that he was quite taken with you, from all accounts." She smiled smugly at Lothiriel's sudden blush.  
"He was? You're not just telling me this to get me to help you? No, you wouldn't do that." The Princess glanced over at her shoulder at Eomer and his entourage, still oblivious to her presence.  
Arwen gave her a slight nudge towards them. "He hasn't noticed that you're here yet. Now, here's what I have planned..."  
*~*~*  
The Queen watched from across the room as her plan was executed. Lothiriel, strategically placed several feet from an empty balcony and scarcely one behind Eomer, bent over slightly and began gasping. With a dramatic cry, she abruptly fell over. Exactly as planned, Eomer turned to assist her. Arwen even fancied she could see the look of surprise and sudden concern on his face as he helped her to the balcony to 'get some air'.  
At the same time, unnoticed by her otherwise occupied brother, Eowyn grabbed Faramir's arm and pulled him into the hallway.  
My work here is done. The rest is up to my partners-in-crime. With that, Arwen took her husband's arm and allowed herself to be escorted to the ballroom.  
*~*~*~*~*~* Author: Coming soon- Lothiriel's chapter and Eowyn's rendezvous! Sorry this was short, if anyone's still reading this... :) 


	11. Chapter Eleven: The Rendezvous

Author's Note: Finally! The rendezvous we've all been waiting for. If I can manage to get it down, that is. My muse has apparently escaped again, but I'll do my best without her. Thanks to all those who have read and reviewed!! You're tres inspiring :) (All characters, places, etc. belong to Tolkien, I own none of it nor am I making money from any of it)  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
Still yanking Faramir along behind her, Eowyn ducked out a side door into the rambling gardens of the Palace. Ignoring Faramir's bewildered protests, she tugged him farther and farther into the darkness until they reached a door in a high stone wall. She double-checked that there was no one around, then pushed the door open and pulled Faramir inside. Relaxing slightly, she leaned against the wall and breathed a sigh of relief. We made it! Now if I can just get up the nerve to...  
"I suppose you're going to tell me what that was all about?" Faramir said indignantly. He crossed his arms, shifted his weight to his left and looked at her. Eowyn was briefly distracted by the moonlight on his hair, the way they stars reflected in his eyes, the dark shadows on his face...shaking herself slightly she straightened up.  
It was time to say what she had come to say.  
"I love you." Faramir's jaw dropped almost imperceptibly, but he closed his mouth again and listened. This wasn't at all what he'd expected. "I can't remember exactly, but I think that's the first time I've told you without being prompted by your own declarations."  
"Eowyn..." Faramir began, but she stopped him.  
"Just hear me out, would you? I love you more than anything, Faramir. Do you understand? Anything! Rohan, my brother, they all take second place to you. And I've nearly died these past weeks with Eomer keeping us apart. Then I overheard you in the stables and I realized you don't believe I love you. You think I'm just latching onto you because I can't have Aragorn, that I'll be unhappy married to a mere Steward, that...{AN: What's a Middle- Earth equivalent to 'rebound'?}" Eowyn's voice quavered and she fell silent. She closed her eyes to keep the tears from falling. Feeling Faramir's hand on her shoulder she began again.  
"Well, it's not true! None of it, do you understand? I don't love Aragorn. I never did, really. I only wanted to escape from a life I could no longer stand. But I learned that I didn't need anyone to do that, all I had to do was make the decision to live my life by what I wanted, not by what others expected of me. And now all I want is to be your wife, to be a Gondorian Lady with all that that entails. I love you, Faramir. Don't you believe me?" She couldn't hold back; a single tear fell down her cheek.  
In an instant she was in his arms. He kissed away the tear, then held her, gently, as she clung to him. When she gathered her composure and drew slightly away, he spoke.  
"I'm sorry I ever doubted you, Eowyn. My only excuse is that I wanted you to be happy, whether it was with me or someone else. I love you so much..."  
They stood in the garden in each other's arms like that for some time, not speaking, just being there together. Finally, Faramir raised his head and saw that quite a while had passed.  
"We'd better get back to the festival. They'll have missed us by now."  
As they walked slowly back to the Palace, Eowyn asked Faramir about the Dance of Love.  
"Well..it's like this. A couple can be engaged for any length of time. Sometimes engagements last too long, and people change their minds. But in Gondor, once you perform the Dance, it's considered an acknowledgment of undying love and complete intent to marry. It's sometimes thought of as the 'true' sign of betrothal, rather than a simple oral agreement. Do you understand?"  
Eowyn nodded. "Good. Then when we dance tonight it will dispel anyone's doubts about our intentions." She raised Faramir's hand in hers and kissed it.  
"You're sure?" He received a horrendous glare. Grinning, he added, "Oh, stop. You know I was only joking."  
When they re-entered the Palace, they eventually found themselves standing at the spot of their last assignation. Eowyn stared again at the portrait that had so enthralled her a week before.  
"Who is she, Faramir? She looks so familiar..." Eowyn trailed off as she saw his eyes grow sad.  
"My mother."  
"Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to..."  
"It's all right. It was a long time ago." Eowyn hesitated, then said abruptly,  
"You have her eyes, Faramir. Beautiful dark eyes." He smiled at her and led her back towards the ballroom.  
"Quit stalling, Eowyn! We have to go back sometime."  
Laughing, they stepped into the throng. 


	12. Chapter Twelve: Lothiriel's Rant

Author's Note: You should know this by now, but just to avoid confusion: I own none of this; it all belongs to Tolkien, yadda yadda yadda. Thanks again to everyone who has written reviews, you're very inspiring. This chapter will be the last, but an epilogue of sorts will follow. Because I just don't know when to quit... :) But don't worry, I'm getting ideas of another fanfic (*watches as readers run away in fear*) Right. Onward.  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
Lothiriel leaned heavily on Eomer's arm as he led her out onto the balcony. She didn't really need the assistance, but it was best to keep up the sweet-and-delicate-I-need-a-big-strong-man routine to give Eowyn and Faramir as long as possible. Fanning herself, she did some fake gasping, as though she weren't getting enough air. Eomer deposited her on a wicker bench overlooking the City and stood to her side.  
"Feeling any better, milady?" Eomer looked at her intently; Lothiriel was suddenly- really- short of breath. She fanned herself harder.  
"Yes, quite. I thank you for your aid, sir. Might I inquire as to your name?" She played dumb.  
Eomer frowned slightly. "You don't remember me, then? We met at Edoras some time ago... Eomer of Rohan, at your service."  
Lothiriel remembered him perfectly. Though he'd been preoccupied with his sister, and the ordering of his new kingdom, they had been introduced and had shared a few polite conversations. Nothing significant except the way she hadn't stopped thinking about him since.  
"Oh!" Still keeping up the charade, Lothiriel feigned surprise. "My lord! I do apologize for not recognizing you sooner, but I was a bit light- headed. I hope you will forgive my rudeness?" She stole a glance at the young King. He looked inordinately pleased that she had remembered who he was.  
"There is nothing to forgive, my lady Lothiriel." Eomer gave an exaggerated court bow and the Princess couldn't help laughing. "Ah!" Eomer pounced. "You ARE feeling restored! Good, then I can initiate a real conversation." Lothiriel felt him grab both her hands and pull her to her feet. He tucked one of her arms through his and began a stately stroll beside the railing. She was silent.  
"I can see I'm not going to get any help from you. Very well- what brings you to Minas Tirith?"  
"I'm here for the wedding."  
  
"Wedding?" Apparently Lothiriel had distracted him more than she'd thought. Grinning, she hinted.  
"Yes...wedding...your sister's marriage to Captain Faramir, my cousin?"  
An expression of shock stole over Eomer's face. "My sister! Faramir...oh, no. Excuse me, Lothiriel, I have to go..." Realizing that she'd inadvertently reminded Eomer of his plan to keep his sister under his eye at all times Lothiriel was appalled. Scarcely enough time had passed to let the couple reach Arwen's garden, let alone straighten things out. As Eomer began drawing away from her, Lothiriel remembered that she was a Princess of Dol Amroth, and she had given her word to distract Eomer. Well! Distract him she would! The instant Eomer released her arm, she raised her hands to clasp his head and dragged his face to hers. Closing her eyes and steeling herself, she kissed him full on the lips.  
Lothiriel felt Eomer freeze in shock. A second passed, then another, as she wondered frantically if this was going to work. Then, without warning, she found her back pressed against the railing, and suddenly she was the one being kissed. Pleasant- no, more than pleasant- sensations coursed through her. She twined her arms around Eomer's neck and kissed him back. Her knees weakened. Mortified, she realized that she had moaned. Oh, goodness...this isn't at all what I had in mind...Was her last coherent thought before she drifted to a place where her mind had no business; only her body and heart were involved.  
Lothiriel had no idea how long they stood like that, kissing passionately underneath the stars. She only knew when Eomer stiffened and pulled away from her. Embarrassed, she started to move away, but found herself trapped between two rather iron-like arms.  
"Let me go!" She started to struggle, but Eomer only tightened his grip.  
"Shh." He whispered. "They're looking for us, and I really don't want them to find you looking like you've just been, uh, well..."  
Lothiriel calmed down. I am a serene princess, she reminded herself. I am upset by nothing. "Then perhaps you should release me, so they don't find us here, like this."  
"No."  
"Why ever not?" She was baffled by Eomer's lack of logic.  
"Because I don't want to."  
"Oh, well, THAT's a good reason." Lothiriel glared at him and allowed the sarcasm to ooze from her voice. "And I'm sure my father will be only too happy to hear that that's why you're out here, imprisoning me in an affectionate embrace, when he finds us and feels obligated to do something drastic, like send me to Rivendell again, because he doesn't like my 'wild, unladylike behavior'." Eomer looked baffled. "Yes, it's all right for YOU to be here with me. No one will think twice about YOU trying to seduce a lady on a balcony because you're a man, and King to boot. But I'M an altogether different story."  
"I'm not seduc—"But Lothiriel was too far gone in her ranting to allow herself to be interrupted. She was panicking at the thought of being sent away again.  
"I've already been banished once, Eomer, and I don't want to go through it again! Yes, to you and everyone else in there I'm just the quiet, perfect little Princess of Dol Amroth, with the serene beauty and perfect manners. Well, I'm not! I'm wild and reckless and I follow my brothers around and get muddy. So much, in fact, that my father sent me to Rivendell for an entire year to be 'finished!' Do you know how awful it is to sit around doing nothing but embroidery and singing archaic songs all day long? No. You don't. Because you can do whatever you want. Well I can't. And if my father finds me out here with you, like this, he'll be convinced that it was my doing and he'll feel obligated to send me somewhere boring again."  
"It was your own doing." Eomer pointed out. "You kissed me, I just took advantage of it. You didn't think I wouldn't, did you? I suppose I should apologize for taking advantage of your innocence, or something like that..." He stepped back and Lothiriel took the opportunity to put some distance between them. She frantically straightened her gown, smoothed her hair, and took deep breaths to compose herself.  
She interrupted Eomer's non-apology. "You will now please escort me back into the ballroom as thought nothing out of the ordinary has happened."  
Eomer obligingly took her arm and led her back inside, but as he released her into her father's chaperonage he whispered, "oh, but something HAS happened, princess," and promptly asked her to dance.  
Lothiriel was saved from having to dance with Eomer by Faramir and Eowyn's re-entrance into the room. She saw Eomer's face darken as he realized they had managed to find time alone together, and grabbed his arm to hold him back when he started to stalk towards them.  
"Wait! Eomer," She saw her father's raised eyebrow. "I mean, My Lord Eomer! They're beginning the Dance of Love, you can't interrupt now!" Lothiriel planted her feet firmly and refused to let go of his arm. Eomer glowered at her.  
"You planned this all along, didn't you?" Lothiriel blushed but didn't answer. He sighed. "I might as well give up, then. If you're in on it, then Arwen must be, and there's no way I can win against the the two of you AND my sister."  
Lothiriel fought the urge to laugh.  
*~*~*  
They danced beautifully. Body and soul, heart and spirit poured into the movements. Women in the crowd grew tearful. Men gruffly held their hands. At the conclusion of the dance, Faramir and Eowyn solemnly clasped hand and kissed. The throng applauded.  
Eomer sighed, defeated. When he was approached by the deliriously happy couple, he waved them aside. "Oh, go away. I've obviously failed as a guardian in keeping you two a safe distance from each other. There's only two weeks until your wedding, drool over each other as much as you want." Eowyn laughed at his petulance and began teasing him. Faramir simply raised his eyebrows at the sight of Lothiriel's hand on Eomer's arm, but decided not to mention it.  
Arwen glided over to the group. After congratulating Eowyn and Faramir, she drew Lothiriel and Eowyn aside to officially invite the Princess of Dol Amroth to the next session of Lady Lessons.  
"Eowyn's promised to teach me how to ride astride, and I daresay you'll be able to give me a few pointers yourself."  
Lothiriel accepted. 


	13. Epilogue

Author's note: Well, before I finish this fic for once and for all, I have to stop and thank (again, I know) all the people who took the time to read and review this story. I've been an aspiring writer for a long time, but I've never managed to get past chapter one in anything fictional I've tried writing. So even if this is short, choppy, and bad, at least it's DONE!  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
2 WEEKS LATER: Eowyn rolled over to look at her new husband. Faramir looked younger when he was asleep, the lines and cares of his responsibilities smoothed away. She smiled softly as she studied his face, and blushed remembering of the pleasures of the night before.  
They'd managed, despite Eomer's dire predictions, to wait until their wedding night for consummation, but only just. They were honeymooning in Ithilien for two weeks, then they would set up a home. For the first time in her live, Eowyn was living not only for the present, but for the future as well. She smiled to herself. Why, she might already be carrying Faramir's child!  
Sunlight streamed in over the bed, and she was happy.  
*~*~*  
1 MONTH LATER: Arwen rolled over to examine her husband. She winced as she felt a rock beneath her. The pain was fleeting, however, and she reminded herself that this vacation was for Aragorn, not her. They were spending a few days camping in the mountains, at her insistence. Aragorn had been growing too involved and weighed down with matters of State, so Arwen had suggested a relaxing trip into the Wild. He'd been pleasantly surprised when she'd pitched their tent, cooked supper over a campfire she lit herself, and tended to the horses. Lessons with Eowyn had paid off.  
They would finally have some time to themselves. Arwen intended to make the most of it: she would be revealing that night that she was pregnant.  
She looked out the tent flap at the stars, and was content.  
*~*~*  
6 WEEKS LATER: Lothiriel rolled over and stared down at Eomer. He had hay stuck in his hair. She plucked some of it out and reflected on their rather disgraceful behavior. No doubt if her father found out he would insist they be married the next day rather than in the planned three weeks. She wasn't worried, though. How could she ever regret being with Eomer? Theirs had been a whirlwind romance, but she knew in her heart that she would love him forever.  
She curled up next to him, and he lazily put an arm around her. They still had a few hours before they would be missed. Why not make the most of them?  
Lothiriel looked up at the moonlight on the roof of the barn, and felt free.  
*~*~*~*~*~* AN: yes, yes, I know. Throwing the timetables out the window. And the parallel structure is probably horrendous, but I can't help it. I'm a sucker for sappy, happy endings... :) This fic was supposed to be about Eowyn, but it turned out that Lothiriel was a more fun character to write. She doesn't have such a pre-made, set-in- stone character to work with, so I can make her into whatever I want! Whee. Beware: Lothiriel/Eomer story coming soon. (*evil laughter*) 


End file.
